Gears and Wheat
by ADAMalchemist
Summary: "I held the gear tightly in my hand. For some reason, the cold metal gave me more peace of mind than Jack did. Maybe because it was a familiar feeling. The feeling of being home and away from the blood." HiJack HungerGamesAU! Might be better than the summary.


**A/N: Only two people know this, but, I am a REALLY big fan of The Hunger Games. I've read all three of the books(don't worry, I won't give ANY spoilers), sometimes draw HiJack Hunger Games AU fanart(even though I suck at it), and own the movie as well as some other merchandise(only one other piece of merch, a mockingjay pin). For a while, I've been DYING to write a Hunger Games AU for my otp. And now, I'm finally doing it, even though it will most definitely suck because I'm trying something different; First Person Point of View. I'm hoping it turns out good. Oh! I need to do this, don't I? Goodness Gracious…okay. I don't own How to train your Dragon or Rise of the Guardians OR The Hunger Games. Thank the Gods too, because if the fans owned either one of those, it'd be total chaos. Anyway, enjoy this piece of toilet slosh. **

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**_CRACK!_**

**_BANG!_**

_Thunder crackled in every direction. The lightning made it hard to see, but, I could tell that I was in a swamp. The mud splattered up into my face and I quickly whipped it off with my sleeve. Leafs from the trees hit me like canon balls while the rain acted as bullets. I truthfully thought for a moment that I was in the middle of a fierce battle, bombs being thrown here and there. The thought of jumping into a large puddle of mud crossed my mind and forced my legs to stop so I could search for one. _

_'Stupid!' I thought to myself. 'He'll kill you if you stop! Keep running!' _

_That's when I looked up and I remembered. This isn't a battle and this isn't a normal rainstorm back home. This was the Games. And if I stopped running now, he'll catch up with me and that'd be it. I'd be nothing more than a freckled face and a stupid stuttering voice. My legs became numb and it took a moment or two before they could free themselves from the grabbing mud. Another flash of lightning hit not that far away, the thunder following almost just as fast. As I began to run, one of the first lessons echoed in my mind. It is one of the first things you are taught in District 3. Simple, obvious, and completely useless given my current situation. But still, in the back of my head I heard my teacher tell us all with a smile that light was faster than sound. Why was I thinking of such useless things?_

_A leaf brushed over my eyes and the scene changed dramatically. Instead of an intense natural battle in the swamps, I was stuck in a frozen forest, bears and wolves making themselves known as I ran. My body became heavy as my once weightless outfit was replaced with an expensive looking, white snowsuit. _

_'Maybe…' I thought as twigs slashed at my face and body. 'this suit is thick enough that their bites won't reach my skin.' _

_I felt them jump on me, one by one. It didn't take long for my to collapse face first into the snow. The small bears and large wolves chewed at my arms and back. I could feel their teeth just barely scratch my skin until I turned over. Their claws were like knives as they scratched at my cheeks, their hot breath warming me up enough to feel anything. _

_Then, there was a whistle. A small one almost sounding like a bird. But I knew it wasn't any type of winter bird. No, it was him, calling the animals off. They did as they were ordered and sat around me in a sort of misshaped circle. The yellow sky made it hard to see his face as he approached me, spear in hand. And then, something inside me just snapped. Not in the mean, must kill everyone way, unfortunately. No, I snapped in the mad way. I began to laugh as I leaned back and stared at him._

_"So this is it, huh?" I asked, shaking my head. "In the middle of the snow? Makes sense, actually. I've always hated snow." _

_This made no sense. District 3 is south; we hardly ever get snow. _

_He shrugged and seemed to laugh with me. "Well, you'll really hate snow after this." With the spear now over his head, I closed my eyes and waited. Waited for the searing pain. Waited for the white light they all talk about. Waited for this all to be over…_

* * *

There was nobody there to sooth me when I woke up. My father was still asleep in the next room. It was one of the many pains of being an only child, a motherless child. The only thing I could do was sit up in my banged up bed, lean against the wall, and look out my window. Even though it was an overly well known fact, it still made me happy to see that the sky was blue, not yellow.

Wires and gears, electrical boards and paper littered my desk, floor, and walls. Some were even caught between my blanket and mattress. I sighed and swept them under my bed in hopes that I didn't break any of them in my sleep.

The clock outside began to chime, making me jump slightly. I usually didn't sleep in this late. My mouth moved but no words came out as I counted the chimes.

One. Two.

My heart sunk. Did I sleep right through the Reaping? No, they wouldn't let me. The Peacekeepers would have dressed me and dragged me out.

Three. Four. Five. Six.

Huh. Maybe it wasn't that late after all. Maybe I would have some time to myself. Some time to take my mind off things so I wouldn't have a heart attack at noon.

Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

Two hours. Two hours to get ready and zone out. Getting washed up would be easy; I'd have enough time to slip into the wastelands of my mind. But, as soon as I looked at my best clothes, those thoughts would come back to me again. I sighed and stood up, crossing my fingers then crossing my arms over my chest as I mouthed out a silent prayer. My father doesn't believe in a God and, to some degree, neither do I. But when Death is walking around wondering if he should pick you, it's nice to feel like someone has your back. Especially in my situation.

When my dad was seventeen, maybe younger, he volunteered to become a Tribute in the Hunger Games to save his brother. I've seen it once before when I was younger in reruns. Even though the number of the year escapes me, I always will remember the setting. Yellow sky, snow covering almost everything, a barren forest one way, a set of rocky mountains another. My father killed many people even though he was from a poor District. He also lost a lot of weight. Nobody would guess by seeing him now; plumped up like some in the Capitol due to getting actual food after becoming a Victor. Sadly, his attempts to save his brother were in vein. The very next year, he was Reaped again and sent to his death, placing ninth. The reruns of those Games are not allowed to be watched at home.

And now here I am, the son of a Victor, expected by some to volunteer like my father before me and win. Which is a lot easier said than done.

Ever since I turned twelve and was eligible to be Reaped, people turned their heads toward me when our Escort, Anna Toothine, said it was time to choose a boy. Of course I did nothing but slink into the crowd and hope that she wouldn't notice me. A few times she did. Last year, when I was thirteen, she asked if me and my dad could take a picture with her. We did and now the picture probably sells for hundreds.

Outside, people forced themselves to shuffle to do daily activities. The Victor's Village, even though it was a little ways away from the actual town, had a good view of almost everything.

Houses were sprinkled all around. It looked a lot like if an egg dropped and cracked open. Most of the hustle and bustle was in the center, the yolk if you will. The bakery was the closest to the Victor's Village and would fill our house with the wonderful smells of freshly risen yeast in the morning if we left the windows open. By eight o'clock, the smell would be thinned out by the factories' smoke. It was still strong when we walked into town, but, the fumes ruin everything.

Most of the Peacekeepers were by the JusticeBuilding, helping out camera crews set up and cleaning the oily steps. Temporary towers were set up; four for lights, two for the large screen that showed what they were filming. At the moment, it was just the well-to-do going about their business, coming out of stores with paper bags or simply just staring at clothes in store windows. Every few minutes, they would switch it to show those who hardly had anything to eat. Their eyes were sunken in, their best clothes tattered with patches here and there, hair greasy and thrown off to the side. There have been times where I've helped these people. In fact, I still do.

Since my mother died, we've had no need for as much food as we get. Yeah, my father eats a lot, but, there are times where we still have cans of food in the cupboards when it's time for another parcel. And they still give us the same amount of everything ever since that day. So, once a week, I go around and hand out the extras we have. Cans of vegetables, fruits. Cans of meats which, I find to be disgusting but, hey, food is food no matter what it is.

With a sigh, I forced myself up and into the bathroom across the hall. After grabbing a few towels and my best clothes, I press the buttons that start a nice, hot shower.

Usually, on Reaping Day, my dad would sit down and tell me of his short time in the Capitol. He thinks it'll cheer me up so I wouldn't feel that bad for those who are Reaped. "They're in for a real treat!" He would say. "The showers are more complex than ours. And the rush of the Tribute's Parade, what a feeling!" He would always leave out the parts I think would be the scariest; going up in those tubes, the countdown, the actual Games themselves. Whenever I start to think about those, I imagine my father's face when he was in the Games. It was always full of excitement, a strange eagerness in his eyes.

I lean back against the shower wall and think about what would happen if I was Reaped today. All I can imagine is my dad patting me on the back and telling me to break a leg. Then, of course, he would make a joke about how, of course I'm going to break a leg. How I'm going to break a few legs and become a Victor. I can just hear him now, telling me to make him proud.

I don't think I'd get very far in the Games. If I was lucky enough to escape the blood bath at the Cornucopia, I'd place…maybe 10th. If luck was _really_ on my side, then 8th.

After what seemed like an hour, and it probably was about that long, I turned off the water, dried myself off, and quickly put on my best clothes. I tried my best to focus on delivering caned goods. If I could go through the next hour doing just that and not getting a panic attack, maybe I'd be fine for the rest of the day.

Nothing seemed to wake my father. Even my snooping in the cupboards and fridge didn't make him stir. And I wasn't a very good thief at all. Cans fell onto the ground with loud bangs, the fridge door kept hitting the counters, the red wagon I used to carry it all squeaked when I rolled it in from the backyard. And all the while, my dad's snoring continued without pause. It was even louder than the factories' working horn, signaling for everyone to start preparing for the Reaping. A small tingle struck me in the chest. I just rubbed the spot as I walked out and began handing out the extras. My first stop was a home a little ways away, oil buckets and wires everywhere. It all belonged to a single mother with four children who maybe shared a cracker once a week for food. Their little faces all lit up when I came walking up to their porch. The mother was smiling as well, but not as brightly as the others. Her oldest child just turned twelve yesterday, making her eligible to be a Tribute in the Hunger Games. I gave them an extra few cans and a carrot cake that I had bought on the way there.

The closer I got to the town, the less I had to give out. Some didn't look as happy as the first family, but, I figured it was just because of the day. Even with the sense of impending doom in the air, it was still clear and sunny. Almost like the universe was laughing at us humans.

As I started wheeling my wagon back home, people began filling in the roped areas that sat in front of the JusticeBuilding. Sisters held onto sisters, brothers clung to brothers, parents watched from the sides knowing there wasn't a thing they could do. I stared down at my feet as I walked by, not wanting to see their faces. It was always the same anyway. Some people looked at me with pity and sympathy while a few others, parents who had lost their child or children, stared at me with hate. My first year, they all got angry – wait, no, not angry, that's an understatement. They were all furious with me that I hadn't Volunteered. I was the son of a Victor after all. I was the one everyone wanted to see in the Games.

Putting my wagon in the small shed in the backyard, I scrambled my way into my usual spot with the youngest teens – twelve, thirteen, and fourteen year olds. My shoes were scuffed and my socks had become spotted brown like my face, but I didn't care. If I were chosen as a Tribute, chances are I'd look a lot worse later on.

Anna Toothine, our Escort for District 3, walked up to the stage with the mayor and his family. Her hair stuck out of the back of her head like a peacock and was dyed a few different colors. Yellow at her roots, light green covering most of her head, and bright blue strips going down and shooting out at the tips. Her outfit matched the colors and looked to be made of feathers. The first thing I wondered was what kind of bird did they kill to make that dress.

She tapped the microphone after clearing her throat, giving everyone her biggest and brightest smile. "Welcome everyone!" Anna Toothine said in an overly preppy voice that, to me, sounded like nails on a chalkboard. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

My father stood next to the mayor, arms crossed over his chest as he looked over each of us. He almost smiled in a welcoming sort of way. Even though there was nothing _welcoming_ about this situation. The film from the Capitol playing on the large screen distracted everyone anyway, so, I was the only one to see his smile. I didn't really want to listen to it anymore. Just hearing about the whole reasoning for others deaths made me sick to my stomach. Children twelve to eighteen dying for things people had done in the past? Utterly stupid. Then again, only stupid people live in the Capitol.

After the film, Anna Toothine clapped her hands and trotted back up to the microphone. "This is definitely the most exciting week of the year!" We'd like to say otherwise, but, we let her continue. "Alright! Let's get on with the show! As always, to show our good manners, ladies first."

I looked over at the other side of the courtyard where the girls stood. Some shook, some tried not to cry, and some just stared ahead as they zoned out. The twelve year olds all huddled together holding each others arms, refusing to let go. The eighteen year olds crossed their fingers, their arms at their sides. As she spoke the name, there were many relieved faces and many searching eyes. It wasn't long until everybody around her took four steps back. I didn't clearly hear the name of our first Tribute, but I knew her fairly well. Her unruly blonde hair gave herself away.

Camicazi was a small girl, always causing trouble one way or another. She's always late for class, she hardly ever brushes her hair, and she is always, _always_ talking. Except for right now, of course. And as I watched her walk up the steps of the JusticeBuilding, I had to keep glancing at her hair to see if it was really her. She didn't seem to try and escape the situation like she always did. I felt guilty as a small smile crept onto my face at the memory of the first escape I have ever seen her perform. She had started a fight with one of the boys early one Tuesday and was put in detention. I had stayed after school that day to finish a project in the same classroom. I never did finish that project, though, because I was too busy being her lookout as she tried to climb up into the air vents. Sadly, there were no air vents today and there was no way of escape.

Anna patted her on the back and quickly walked over to the glass bowl in front of the boys. I held my breath and looked over at my father who was still staring down at us with that smile. And, for a moment, I almost wanted to smile back.

"…Hiccup Haddock!"

Almost.

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**A/N: Yup. Crushed it. Soiled it. Am I kicked out of any fandoms yet? :D – ADAM**

**Reviews = Motivation = Chapters**


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